


When I Turn Off My Nightlight

by tonystarkssnipples



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Angst, Cigarettes, Depressed Tony Stark, Depression, Established Relationship, Established Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, M/M, Mild Smut, Not Happy, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 13:10:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12343326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonystarkssnipples/pseuds/tonystarkssnipples
Summary: It wasn’t the first time he’d thought about it, wasn’t even the first time he made a plan. When he was younger he did it all the time. Never really planned to go through with it, but just a thought to keep in the back of his mind, reminding him it was always an option.A few years ago… three now, probably, he’d decided to do it. There wasn’t a plan, he didn’t write a note. The idea popped into his head and, when no reasons to not do it came to mind, he was on the roof before he knew it.





	When I Turn Off My Nightlight

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE
> 
> READ THE TAGS. **READ THE TAGS.** _READ THE TAGS. **READ THE TAGS.**_
> 
> Inspired by [The Harold Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lnmY2srJ6uI) by Kesha, which is where the title comes in.

Tony loved Steve. When he looked at Steve, his stomach did this swooping thing he couldn’t define and he couldn’t help smiling. It was almost frightening just how much he loved the man. But love doesn’t fix everything.

“Morning babe,” Steve greeted, swooping into the kitchen. “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Tony mumbled into his fourth cup of coffee.

“Nightmares?” Steve placed his hand on Tony’s hip, rubbing his thumb over the jut of the bone. The movement caused his shirt to slide up, and the skin on skin contact felt like a searing hot brand.

“Sort of.” Tony couldn’t bring himself to tell Steve the truth. That it wasn’t only monsters and aliens that threatened his psyche every night. Those were still ever present, but they’d recently taken the backseat. Now it was losing his friends. Losing  _ Steve _ . Losing, losing, losing. Losing and watching and not being able to stop it.

“Wake me up next time. Steve kissed Tony’s forehead before walking towards the coffee pot. He got out his favorite mug—a cheesy, minimalistic Iron Man helmet—and poured himself his first cup. Hesitantly, Tony held out his own mug—it had a Captain America shield on it—and silently asked Steve to pour him more.

“Yeah, I will,” Tony lied.

Steve sat down at the counter Tony was leaning against and sipped slowly. Steve loved coffee; Tony loved Steve. Watching his partner sitting and enjoying something as simple as coffee gave him a little blip of happiness, somewhere deep inside his brain.

“I love you,” Tony said because he could. He liked reminding Steve.

“I love you, too.”

Steve picked up the tablet that was waiting on the counter—he put it there every night before bed—and headed towards the living room. Tony aimlessly followed, plopping down next to Steve. His head was resting on Steve’s shoulder while Steve clicked through the news articles, reading impossibly fast.

Absently, Tony wondered which of them could read faster. Tony with his genius IQ or Steve with his enhanced observational skills and ability to retain? Maybe he’d ask Steve someday. Maybe they could sit down and half some sort of read-off.

Then Tony remembered, with a dull ache, what would be happening in the next few days. At first it had hurt, which made him second-guess the decision, but as time moved on, the idea started bringing warmth and relief to him.

“Hey, babe?” Steve asked, not looking up from an article he was reading on a new organization looking to provide clean water. Tony mentally told himself to get out his checkbook as soon as he was done being a needy octopus. “Want to go out today? We haven’t had a date in awhile. Something low key. A walk.”

“How about we don’t do something low key? How about we go somewhere. Out to dinner, maybe.”

Steve hummed. “That sounds nice. I could go for Italian.”

“Italian it is.” Tony rummaged in his pocket and sent a few apology texts, letting everyone know that something urgent had come up and he had to leave the country. “I think we should get packing.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Are we going to Italy?” At one point, Tony’s extravagant shenanigans had made Steve uncomfortable; Steve had adjusted and, frankly, enjoyed random weekend trips to foreign countries or extravagant islands.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll go pack us.”

* * *

It wasn’t the first time he’d thought about it, wasn’t even the first time he made a plan. When he was younger he did it all the time. Never really planned to go through with it, but just a thought to keep in the back of his mind, reminding him it was always an option.

A few years ago… three now, probably, he’d decided to do it. There wasn’t a plan, he didn’t write a note. The idea popped into his head and, when no reasons to not do it came to mind, he was on the roof before he knew it.

Steve was up there, that night. He was smoking a cigarette. When Tony had stumbled onto the roof, Steve looked like a deer caught in the headlights and immediately dropped the barely started smoke to the ground, stomping over it with his boot.

“No need for decorum with me,” Tony said. Since he’d decided that it was his last night on earth, there was no harm in succumbing to the habit he’d kicked all those years ago. “Have one for me?”

Steve balked. “You… smoke?”

“Haven’t for years, but eh. Why not.”

“But you can get sick. I can’t.”

Tony, now frustrated, stomped over to the edge of the building and looked down. This was it. Count of three he was going to jump. He cracked his knuckles, then his neck. He pulled the sleeves of his sweater down over his hands. Was it always this cold and windy up here?

Okay, he was stalling. He realized he was stalling. Count of three, he reminded himself. One… two…

He held one foot over the edge, in a second he was going to lean forward and that would be that. He was a smart man, he knew the math. If his damaged heart didn’t give out in the 9 seconds it would take to reach the ground, the impact would kill him instantly.

Just as he was about to teeter over the edge, there was a firm hand on his shoulder, pulling him back. He toppled back and sprawled on the ground, the tiny pebbles digging into his back. Why do roofs have pebbles? He knew, once, but all that was in his mind now was the adrenaline of almost ending his life and the… relief?... of not dying.

“Are you insane?” Steve asked. He was standing over Tony, looking down at him. “What the hell?”

“I’m… drunk,” Tony slurred, the lie easily rolling off his tongue. He hadn’t had a drink in over six months. He had the coin to prove it, hidden in the back of a drawer in his workshop. “Got confused.”

“Alright, well.” He was suddenly cradled in Steve’s arms, lifted off the ground. Were he in a right state of mind, he’d have made a bridal joke. As it were, the quips died on his tongue. Steve was warm, despite the wind and the cold. He snuggled closer, closing his eyes. They were going down a flight of stairs, now. Steve was asking JARVIS to access Tony’s floor. The door clicked open, Steve shifts Tony slightly so he can open the door.

Tony was gently laid in his bed. Steve brought him a glass of water and two Aleve from the bathroom, placing them on the table beside the bed.

“Please stay,” Tony whispered. Without a moment’s hesitation, he heard Steve kicking off his boots and… oh, Tony found a flaw, Captain Stinkyfeet. The covers were pulled back and Steve slid under them, pulling Tony into his arms.

Breathing deeply against Steve’s too-small white shirt, he smelled fabric softener and nothing else. Why didn’t he smell like the cigarette? Tony’s mind drifted. Would Steve’s mouth taste like it? Steve thinks he’s drunk and that’s why he’s being so needy. Now would be the perfect moment to kiss him.

Tony was expecting to be shoved away and/or scolded. Instead, Steve’s mouth opened against Tony’s easily. He licked along Steve’s lips, so full, so pink. Steve, ever the aggressor, shoved his tongue in Tony’s mouth moments later. Tony’s question was answered, Steve tasted like smoke. Experiment over. Time to pull away.

But Steve was cupping his cheek and carding through his hair. Tony couldn’t remember the last time he was kissed this tenderly. Would he be judged if the answer was never? Probably best not to tell Steve that this kiss was a life altering experience.

Three years later and they were still sharing a bed, still holding each other, still sneaking off to the roof to share their secret cigarettes. Still in love.

* * *

They both worked during the plane ride. If they were done with work when they landed, they would be able to enjoy the spoils of Tuscany. Tony had called ahead to make sure his villa was cleaned, even though they had just been there last month. That was a planned vacation, a two week laze fest. All they’d done was fuck, eat, and sleep. In summer there was no reason to close any windows or doors--the whole house had been like a dream. A cloud. The curtains lazily blowing in the soft breeze, billowing. For those two weeks, Tony had been happy. Or maybe he’d just been able to ignore the sadness better.

The plane started its descent and Steve reminded Tony to buckle up. He blinked lazily, his eyes unfocused. Were they already there? Had he zoned out for that long? Jesus. He slid on his seatbelt, dreading the pop of his ears that he’d gotten used to so long ago. The landing was fairly smooth but Tony still felt jostled to his core.

* * *

The first time they’d had sex had been quite the revelation for Tony. He’d figured there would be some sort of enhancement to Steve’s sexual performance but he was wholly unprepared for the amount of semen.

“I have to beat one out a few time a day,” Steve had admitted. “Otherwise it gets kinda painful. Builds up.”

“Oh, I’m going to have fun with you,” Tony had said, smirking. And boy did they have fun.

The first few times had just been Tony jerking Steve off time and time again to see exactly how many consecutive times he could go (6 in one hour from just his hand; 9 in one hour from blowjobs; 12 in one hour from penetrative sex, though that data couldn’t be confirmed as it only happened once because Tony isn’t a machine). Steve liked giving blow jobs but he had a really sensitive gag reflex. Tony had walked in on him trying to deepthroat a banana for practice.

The first time they had penetrative sex was, in a word, uncomfortable. Steve was larger than average. Tony’s body did not want to accommodate. Tony usually topped now, Steve’s body more accepting of the intrusion and Tony’s cock being smaller (than Steve’s but it was not  _ small _ , thank you very much).

* * *

“I love you,” Steve murmured into Tony’s mouth. He’d felt it more than heard it. After eating way too many carbs they’d devolved into heavy petting on the car ride back, which transitioned into half clothed making-out. Tony had ordered their meals in Italian, which always got Steve going. Not that Tony was complaining. Because sex.

Tonight, though, Tony couldn’t get it up. Steve had probably been sporting a half-chub since they got to the restaurant, which was now a full on erection. Steve was stroking him and kissing his neck and sucking large bruises into his skin. Fuck he loved it when Steve marked him like that.

“Babe?” Steve asked. “You okay?”

_ No, I’m not. When we get back, I’ve planned on killing myself. Life is too much, it’s too hard, I can’t do it anymore. I want to lose myself to you but my body can’t. _ “I’m fine.”

“We don’t have to if you don’t want.”

“I want to.” That much was true. “I think I’m just getting too old.” Also true. “How about I get you off and then we can cuddle. You love cuddling.”

“You enjoy it, too.”

“I’m not a fucking octopus, though. That’s all on you.”

* * *

Telling the team hadn’t been easy.

“You’re team leaders. If you break up, that compromises the Avengers,” Natasha said.

“Plus, we’re not the public’s favorite right now,” Clint interjected. “There’s nothing wrong with a same-sex relationship--”

“I love him,” Tony declared. It had been the first time he said it. He had been as shocked as Steve was.

“I think what Clint was getting at is that we need to think about this politically,” Bruce said.

“I don’t care about the politics.” Tony was on a roll, now. “I love Steve Rogers and I don’t care who knows about it. I want to shout it from the rooftops. I want to paint it on my chest and streak through the streets.”

“Let’s not go that far, honey,” Steve joked. “But, unfortunately, I have to agree with the rest of the team. Coming out to the public isn’t in our best interest right now.”

“That isn’t good,” Thor said. “I wish you’d said that before. I just Twittered it.”

That’s how the came out to the team… and the rest of the world.

* * *

Steve was asleep. As usual, Tony was awake beside him, terrified of what might plague his mind should he close his eyes and succumb to sleep. Steve snored, which he loved. It wasn’t loud, earth shaking snores. No, just a little noise, almost like a cat purring. Tony indulged himself, leaned over, and kissed Steve’s nose. Steve scrunched up his nose, as if reliving an itch, but didn’t otherwise move or wake up.

Things turned out alright. Halfway through sucking Steve off, his own dick decided it wanted to wake up and they’d made love. It was slow and sweet, the way Tony liked it. Everyone expected him to be the rough one, but he liked it mellow. Not that he didn’t love when Steve decided he wanted to  _ fuck _ .

It dawned on him. Why wait? It had been a great day. A wonderful end. If he planned his last day on earth (which he had been) he’d want it to be just like this. A trip, indulged in good food, wonderful sex, being held by the man he loved.

He took a deep breath, rolled away from Steve just a little so that he had access to both arms. Okay. Alright. He’d planned this. He knew how he was going to do it. It would look like an accident, if he did it right. No one would have to know he killed himself. Least of all Steve.

He reached under his shirt, ran his fingers along the smooth edge of the arc reactor. So ugly, splitting his chest. The perfect end. He’d built it to save his life and now he was going to use it to end it.

It made a clicking sound as it popped out, just enough to stop it from working but not enough to make it look like he’d taken it out. The perfect amount. Alright, finally. This was it. He would close his eyes, feel a little tearing, fall asleep. Never wake up.

He rolled over, kissed Steve carefully on the lips. Their last kiss. He was going to miss Steve so much, but he couldn’t keep living for only one good thing.

“Good night. I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment. I need it.


End file.
